


this impossible year

by CompleteHornballs (EmmaLuLuChu)



Series: puppy au [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Brief mention of Lotor, Dark, Lance (Voltron)-centric, M/M, Owner Hunk, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Past Sexual Abuse, Pet Play, Please be mindful of the tags for triggering content!!!!!, Puppy Lance, Puppy Play, The start is sad and angsty but the ending is hopeful and good, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 09:17:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11414859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaLuLuChu/pseuds/CompleteHornballs
Summary: Lance hasn't had the best year. Hunk happens to be there during a rough night.What starts as clouds and gloom somehow turns to sunshine and warmth.





	this impossible year

**_There's never air to breathe_ **  
**_There's never in-betweens_ **  
**_These nightmares always hang on past the dream_ **

**_There's no sunshine_ **  
**_There's no you and me_ **  
**_There's no good times_ **  
**_This impossible year_ **

 

**_-_ **

 

****Things were not okay. Truthfully it hasn’t been okay for Lance in a long time, the past year hadn’t been very good for him. Dwelling on it just sent him into a downward spiral (not that his life was already on that path) so it was better to find ways to forget for a while. People turned to many things to help, so he went with what seemed to be the easiest option.

He hadn’t been much of a drinker before his ex, but when life gives you lemons. Being in college greatly helped his access to it, when Lance couldn’t afford to go out and buy alcohol he just hit up the closest frat party, downed enough to get the proper buzz, then left before he got too far into his own mind. There was probably an issue with the fact that enough alcohol got Lance to reach his headspace he used for his sex activities, but Lance couldn’t care less. It was the only way he felt safe now, it was self-inflicted and made it easier to feel good crawling around in his apartment and barking at his neighbors.

Thank god they just figured Lance had a dog.

That was the easiest way to cope with his fucked up life: remember his abusive ex and how much he used to like being a puppy, drink to forget it all, hole himself up in his home to ride out his buzz and puppy headspace, if it was a good night maybe he’d get himself off but otherwise he’d pass out and wake up with a hangover in the morning.

Rinse and repeat.

Was it okay? No. Mentally and physically healthy? Hell no.

But it worked and that’s all that mattered.

Eventually a peer from one of his classes seemed to pick up on Lance’s self-destructive tendencies (he’d started to slack on his care routine, it was easier to not hide the bags under his eyes and slap cold water onto his face when he woke up crying again) and had asked if he wanted to start hanging out with a social group on campus. Lance had nearly turned and run when he asked what it was specifically for and the student had hesitantly admitted it started out as a BDSM group but turned more into a “chill and hangout” group.

The person for whatever reason had been a persistent fucker so Lance had reluctantly gone. It was just another way to get alcohol.

Somehow things seemed to get brighter that first time he went.

There was a guy there. Lance was bisexual, he had a previous female partner, and his previous ex was male, so the gender thing was not an issue. His looks weren’t the issue either, this guy was a virtual opposite to Lance.

While Lance was a tall guy, this one seemed to have a couple more inches on him. His skin was darker too, and looked warm and soft to the touch. He was also heavier set, but Lance found himself sort of attracted to that (he couldn’t stop the image of laying his head on this guy's stomach, peacefully sleeping in the warm afternoon sun). His name fit him so well, Hunk, likely a nickname but it worked with his  _ everything. _ None of this was the issue.

The issue was Lance didn’t deserve to even  _ try  _ and get a date with Hunk. He was too mentally fucked up, too broken to be with anyone else.

_ "Only I will ever love you, nobody would ever give you a second glance, or a first glance. You are mine and mine alone  _ **_my pet._ ** _ ” _

Lance took another swig of his drink, he used to at least shudder when a memory or snippets of words came up, but he'd grown numb to that shock of fear. Swallowing down a shot made it go away faster than acknowledging it. His swig was somewhat lacking, and he realized then that his drink had run out, hand fumbling to grab the next bottle within reach. Good thing he’d had the foresight to set a couple bottles out, Lance had gone nonverbal twenty minutes ago and that was usually his first sign that he was slipping into his headspace.

“Hey Lance, I really think you should stop now, there’s more empty bottles than full ones.”

There was the other reason Lance was thankful for his foresight, Hunk was here. The event that led to the one person Lance had started to like and made himself refuse to make a move on was lost on him, maybe they were studying for something beforehand? Hunk had stopped by to bring Lance food during one of his school-related breakdowns (he was still catching up on all the work he’d missed since running away from his ex), completely by accident, but he’d sat and calmed Lance down and said he could come over some time and help with studying and catch-up work. That was probably what they were doing before he started to drink.

Lance was an idiot and had agreed to it, had somehow forgotten that the anniversary of when his life went to shit was coming up, froze on the spot as he realized the date and the memories came flooding back in a tidal wave, ignored the look on Hunk’s face when he brought the case of beer out and covered his panic with suggesting a few drinks to loosen themselves up. Hunk had taken a drink out of politeness and barely touched it. Lance was maybe on his seventh bottle? Give or take like one or two, including this bottle he was trying to pop the top off of. He managed to bite down the whine he wanted to vocalize, this was normally the point he was too far gone and would mope around before passing out, but Hunk was still here, Hunk who’d pushed off important time to work on his prosthesis project to try and help Lance’s sorry and undeserving ass, Hunk who was perfect and a drop of sunshine on this cold and cruel planet filled with horrible people like  _ fucking Lotor _ and  **_Lance himself-_ **

Hunk who had opened his bottle and hadn’t touched it since. It was sitting right in front of where Hunk sat on the couch, condensation dripping onto the wood of the coffee table Lance was kneeling in front of and had thumped his head onto as he failed at opening the next bottle.

Lance flickered his eyes towards it, not enough to catch Hunks attention hopefully, swallowing as a familiar fear dripped down his spine. His owner hadn’t liked it when Lance stepped out of line, he had to be quiet and still unless his owner ordered him to, even now he could feel that heaviness to his bones that came not from the alcohol but the ‘training’ his owner had put him through, kept him from reaching out and finding that safety in drowning himself in bitter liquid that made his blood warm and buzz. He wasn’t here though. Maybe he could-

A burst of energy and confidence surged through Lance, and he swiped his hand out, a loud clatter and crash sounding out as he more than likely knocked some bottles off the table, but that feeling disappeared as his hand wrapped around nothing.

“Lance,  _ stop!  _ You’ve clearly had too much, you always do. None of this is good for you, me and a few others are  _ really worried. _ Let me help you,  **_please._ ** ”

He glanced up at Hunk then, looking past the worried furrow of his eyebrows and frowning lips at the bottle in his large hand, held away from Lance, but if he could get closer he could still grab it. Lance clumsily shuffled forward, managing to keep himself from crawling with his hands and knees but unable to hold back the whine that started in his throat, deep and pitiful as he continued to reach for the bottle but it went out of his range again, and he paused for just barely a moment as a firm voice met his ears,

“ **_Lance._ ** No more. You should go to bed. I’ll clean up, bring you some water, and head out. We’ll talk about this when you’re sober.”

There was some comfort he took from that tone, commanding him to stop(god he needed that he  _ craved _ for everything to come to a standstill), a warm edge to it that wanted to soothe him, but Hunk had tried to order Lance around.

As fucked up as he was, as broken and alone he felt, the moment Lance had slammed the door to his apartment closed after escaping, he’d vowed to  **_NEVER_ ** take orders from anyone ever  _ again _ .

So when Hunk told him to go and sleep, Lance stared at him before a swell of rebellion filled his chest, it bubbled and frothed and came out as he scrunched his face up in pure anger, an anger born from the thought that someone dared to take control of him again.

Lance glared at Hunk, and  _ barked _ louder than he ever had, the sound reverberating against the walls of the apartment.

He quickly shut his eyes and stiffened his body, prepared himself for that hit, the sound of a palm on skin or a harsh yank on that stupid leash attached to his collar, but after a few seconds nothing came. Lance blinked his eyes open, meeting Hunk’s own wide-eyed stare, a hint of recognition somewhere deep in those chocolate eyes.

It was then Lance realized things were okay. There was no threat against him, no need to cower in fear or hide away, to shut his mouth and stay quiet. Hunk wouldn’t hurt Lance. He was safe.

The relief washed over him so thoroughly that all Lance could do now was collapse forward onto Hunk’s lap, a relieved whimper escaping his mouth as he nuzzled into the warm and plush thighs, and he relaxed as a hand ran over his head, so warm and big and gentle, and it helped lull him into his first peaceful sleep in  _ months. _

None of that seemed to cure the pounding headache Lance had as he woke up, eyes crusty and throat far too dry. He felt the rough texture of his couch under his cheek, and when he blearily blinked his eyes open he was surprised to see the table in front of him clear of any bottles and his school work in a tidy stack. He groaned as he sat up, squinting towards the kitchen as he heard the distinct sounds of someone cooking. Lance lived by himself, the apartment was primarily paid for by Lance’s  _ papi _ along with whatever Lance made at his meager part-time job he was just barely hanging onto, so unless he left his door unlocked and a good Samaritan happened to pass by, he didn’t know who the hell was in here.

He managed to get to his feet and shuffled towards the kitchen, sniffing at the smell wafting by, and froze as he made out the back of  _ Hunk  _ in the kitchen, turned towards the stove as he cooked up what smelled like breakfast. Lance wanted to turn and go back to the couch, pretend to sleep if Hunk happened to come out and check on him, hope that the other had forgotten his spiral last night and ignore the breakdown Lance felt coming on again, but he stood there, feet locked to the ground as Hunk twisted around and spotted him in the door frame.

“Oh, good morning Lance. I uh, decided to stay here. You looked pretty passed out and out of it, and I didn’t want to disturb you. I found some food and figured I could whip up some breakfast.”

He paused there, looking at Lance and expecting him to respond back, but he couldn’t do it. His throat was too tight and there was an unmistakable wetness in his eyes that he knew the other could see and Lance couldn’t speak up and ask for help, couldn’t try to be normal for even a minute. The silence stretched between them, Lance’s eyes had turned down to look at the floor as Hunk’s face slowly fell, and Lance felt that empty feeling he had grown to know very well fill his gut. Hunk finally spoke again, but not the words he had expected to hear,

“Lance, I won’t ask you to elaborate or tell me every detail. I’ll even leave if you want me to, but I just want you to know that I want to help. With the addiction, with the school work. . . “ Hunk looked at him with a knowing look then, a somewhat pained expression crossing his face, “. . . With trusting people again. As. . . As a dom and an owner I know whoever you knew previously was bad to you. That’s not okay, you shouldn’t be turning to alcohol or flinching because you barked. I can’t completely solve the problem or make you magically better, but I want to be there to help.” Hunk sighed and rubbed at his face, looking at Lance once more, a hopeful look on his face.

Lance felt even more frozen to the spot, he didn’t deserve this why was Hunk doing this much to make him feel better, and shivered as Hunk slowly approached him, quietly asking if he wanted a hug. He wished he could respond, wish he could manage words to say, but nothing came up. Maybe there was a hint of what Lance wanted on his face, because warm arms wrapped around him and Lance melted into it, sagging and heavily leaning into the other's chest. It felt. . . really good. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this nice, this  _ willing _ to try and trust someone else.

Lance wanted to try. He wanted to get better. It wouldn’t happen overnight or within a short span of time, but he could try now that he knew there was someone else there.

Hunk was here and Lance could do it.

**Author's Note:**

> as a part of the puppy au w shallureith, hance does come in as a important characters/factor to the story, and also we just need more hance in this world. angsty hurt and comfort hance specifically too.
> 
> also surprise this was also a slight vent piece hahaha


End file.
